


Forbidden Fruit

by Slush



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Kim goes to boarding school, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slush/pseuds/Slush
Summary: Kim's family move to England, and Kim enrols in a prestigious boarding school for her senior year. A certain mean-spirited history teacher, Mr Fiske, catches her interest... and vice-versa. (Kim is 18 in this story.) [KimFist] [High school AU]
Relationships: Monkey Fist/Kim Possible, Monty Fiske/Kim Possible
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> OHHHHH BOY!!!!! I haven't written actual fic in FOREVER, so it's gonna take me a while to get back into the flow - if I ever WAS in the flow. Anyway, I have a whole story of this planned, with multiple chapters, so I aim to get them out in a reasonable time-frame. Sorry if it's kinda BORING AND SLOW until I get into my jam, and fingers crossed that I eventually do. 
> 
> Same shit stands - if you don't like it, don't read it. 
> 
> Thanks goes to Lamb, my muse. We may have come up with this idea together, but I dedicate this to you. (insert puppy eyes emoji)

“There, that’s the last of them.” 

Kim glanced over her bags before nodding and looking back up at the taxi driver. “You said, uh… 50 pounds, right?” 

The man nodded in affirmation, and Kim dug around in her bag until she retrieved the wallet stuffed full of fresh currency. She flicked through the notes until her eyes located the correct number, and pulled it out, giving it a quick scan with her eyes before handing it over to the man. The foreign notes looked strange. Alien. 

“Cheers,” the man grunted as he walked back towards his car. Kim smirked to herself. _Cheers._

She watched the taxi as it drove away, finally allowing her shoulders to relax as she let out a long exhalation of breath. Her first day living in England. As a student at an English boarding school, no less. 

Kim tossed her backpack over her shoulder and began dragging her two suitcases through the carpark and towards the black iron gates. As she passed through she finally caught sight of what she had only before seen on the school’s website – a vast expanse of dark stone walls, embellished with gothic accents of turrets and columns. The building struck her as a cross between a stately manor house and a medieval castle. It was fascinating, and old, and vaguely threatening. 

As remarkable as it was, Kim knew the building before her was but one of the many buildings that made up the whole campus. The school stood in grounds of 500 rolling acres, the website had said. Her parents were particularly impressed with that bit; her dad pointing out a ‘great spot for a morning jog’ in one of the photos of the school grounds’ lake.

Kim’s parents had been anxious to uproot the family, particularly in such a tumultuous period of Kim’s life, just one year away from her high school graduation. But the offer for James to work for one of the world’s most cutting-edge space exploration teams in London was an offer too good to pass up; an offer that was only made more irresistible when Ann had been given a senior consultant position at UCL Hospital. After committing a week-long’s hard thought to the decision, Kim had assured her parents that England was nothing she couldn’t handle. Of course, part of her heart was broken at the prospect of leaving behind her old home, school, and friends – particularly Ron and Monique – but it also meant that she was given the opportunity to study at such a prestigious British school. She had always planned to go to college in Europe, so why not start that journey a year early? 

In any case, it would surely take some getting used to, Kim mused as she glanced up at the grey foreboding sky and ignored the urge to shiver. From the land of hot summers and fireworks and cheerleading; the land of friends and familiarity – to the land of royalty and clouds and pigeons, where people give each other curtly nods by way of greeting and say words like “cheers”. At least some small comfort came in the knowledge that this school had a karate club – allegedly one that was quite high-ranking in national school competitions. And the comfort of at least one familiar hobby was not one to be ignored. 

As for the twins, her brothers were more than happy to attend a school in London with the promise of brand new technology to play with at the end of the day, but Kim jumped at the prospect of a boarding school. She was fiercely independent, with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and adventure – if Kim couldn’t handle boarding school, no one could.

She reminded herself of this as she walked down the paved road, feeling equal parts excited and nervous for what was to come. Sure, Kim was more mature than her peers, even for an 18 year old – but even she couldn’t ignore the flight of butterflies currently resident in her stomach. 

“Welcome to Claverton Academy! Are you a new or returning student?” 

\---

“I can’t believe how big this building is,” Kim said, glancing behind them at the long stretch of corridor, before turning to gaze up in awe at the stained glass windows as they walked. “And… old.” 

Rosa laughed at that. “Yeah, well, this isn’t even the oldest building. The chapel’s been on these grounds for over 200 years.” 

“You have a chapel?!” 

“Bit different from American high schools, huh?” Rosa said. 

“You have no idea,” Kim replied. 

“Oh, and if you think these are impressive,” Rosa said, nodding at the colourful windows, “wait till you see the ones in the Great Hall.” 

Kim was thankful to have made a friend so quickly after being shown to the dorms, and even more thankful that Rosa was her roommate. They were to share a reasonably-sized room with one another, each half partitioned off by an open wall, with their own sink and wardrobe. The twins had enjoyed teasing Kim that she would be given a spider-infested cupboard under the stairs in which to live, and although she didn’t believe it for a second, the reality of being given a whole half-room to herself did offer some quiet satisfaction.

Rosa quickly put Kim at ease, excitedly chatting to her about what it’s like to grow up in America and go to a “real American high school”. Kim laughed, enjoying Rosa’s enthusiasm, even if she was feeling increasingly jet-lagged as the day went on and unable to match quite the same levels of excitement. She stifled a yawn and wondered what time dinner was going to be. 

As though she could read her mind, Rosa chirped up again. “Dinner’s at 7, so we have a couple hours to kill. You want me to give you a quick Rosa-branded tour of the school before?” she said with a grin. 

“You’re saying a ‘quick’ tour of the school takes 2 hours?” 

Rosa laughed, but didn’t reply as she glanced into the mirror, running a hand through her short hair. Kim wondered to herself if the lack of response was because it was true. 

“You ready?” Rosa said. 

“You bet. Uh… we don’t have to wear our uniforms to dinner, right?” 

Rosa giggled. “Not unless you want people to think you’re a weirdo. No, we wear our own clothes after lessons finish each day.” 

Kim glanced nervously at her uniform, which she’d laid out neatly on her bed, composing of a white button-up shirt, dark grey jumper, tie, and purple pleated skirt. The skirt vaguely reminded her of her cheerleading uniform back in Middleton, but she decided that was where the similarities ended. Kim figured she would wait until the morning to confess to Rosa that she had no idea how to wear a tie. 

And so began Rosa’s self-branded tour of Claverton Academy. She seemed to brush over the features that particularly interested Kim, such as the school’s boathouse, its private planetarium, or the glass cabinet that housed the various alumni’s donated Nobel prizes and war medals. Rosa seemed so desensitised to the school’s impressive credentials, presumably from her years of being a student there, whilst Kim failed at finding words to express her wonder. 

The tour lead them past the boarding houses, sports halls, science block and chapel, and towards the main building where Rosa explained the majority of classes were held, ending at the Great Hall, and finally, the lunch hall. 

As the two girls neared the corner towards the first of the halls, the soft hum of voices could be heard. “Oh yeah, it’s inset day today, so that’s probably the end of one of the teachers’ meetings,” Rosa explained. 

“Inset day?” Kim echoed as they turned the corner, and took in the sight of a group of adults standing in a loose circle, seemingly discussing pleasantries with one another. She allowed her eyes to scan over the figures absent-mindedly. There were six or seven of them, immediately distinguishable from the rest of the students sparsely roaming the school corridors by account of their height and general demeanour. 

“Uh… boarding school thing,” Rosa replied swiftly. “Come on, you’ll want to put off meeting them by at least another day if you can help it.” 

They walked, and Kim’s eyes settled briefly on one of the figures – a man with coal black hair, standing with tall frame and broad, straight shoulders. As Rosa guided Kim down the corridor and away from the group of teachers, the man with black hair suddenly glanced up over his shoulder, almost like he knew he was being watched. Kim quickly took in the sight of thick, dark eyebrows glowering over piercing blue eyes. Eyes that looked directly at her. 

Without even knowing why, Kim found herself instantly looking away, breath hitching in her throat. She felt something akin to guilt creep into her stomach, as though she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She moved a little faster to catch up with Rosa then, only allowing herself to glance back at the teachers after a few seconds had passed. But the man was nowhere to be seen. 

The Great Hall was indeed as Great as Kim had imagined it to be, to none of her surprise; the high ceiling adorned with oil painted-illustrations embellished with gold leaf. She slowly turned round where she stood to gaze up at the bright stained-glass windows, the colours bleeding in the warm September sunset. 

“Beautiful…” she whispered to herself, practically immobilised in awe. 

“Told you,” Rosa sang. “But you know what’s even more beautiful?” 

Kim glanced over at Rosa, completely at a loss for what could possibly be more beautiful than what she had just seen. She waited for Rosa to continue. 

“The bread and butter pudding they serve on the first Sunday back. C’mon, it’s almost 7, and I’m starving.” 

With her tray of food, Kim sat down at one of the large oak tables with Rosa, and let Rosa introduce her to some of her other friends from the year before. Kim half expected to be bombarded with similar questions about her American background as Rosa had asked, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that while polite and friendly, they didn’t seem to care too much. She figured the school must host several international students each year, and in addition to all the other students coming from high-status backgrounds, celebrity or otherwise, it might be the case that Kim wasn’t all that interesting. 

And from Kim’s perspective, this was a good thing. She wasn’t keen on advertising anything about her background that would make her stand out among her peers. 

“Us year 13s usually sit at this end of the hall, but it’s not like there’s any rule that says you have to sit in a certain space,” Rosa said to Kim, seeing her glancing out over the hall that was rapidly starting to fill. “Well, except for the teacher’s table, of course,” she added, gesturing to the side where a long rectangular table stood. It was already occupied by a number of teachers – some she recognised from outside the hall, some she didn’t. Kim looked across the length of the table, but couldn’t see the man with dark hair and blue eyes. 

“Oh, speaking of teachers,” Emilia, one of Rosa’s friends from art class, said – “what’s your timetable like, Kim?” 

“Hang on, I think I’ve got it in my pocket.” Kim took out the folded-up piece of paper in her back pocket and handed it over to Emilia, who began to study it. 

“Economics, English, sociology and history, huh? You brainiac,” Rosa said, leaning over Emilia’s shoulder to read. 

“Oh cool, you have Mrs Iain for economics. She was my form teacher in year 9. She’s pretty nice,” Emilia added. “Miss Stephens for sociology, Mr Kent for English, and… oh no.” Emilia stopped and made a face. Rosa leaned further over Emilia’s shoulder, squinting to read the text, then sat upright and stared at Kim with a look of pity. 

“What? What is it?” Kim said. 

“I’m so sorry, Kim,” Rosa said through giggles. 

“You have Mr Fiske for history,” Emilia finished. 

Kim blinked. “And? Who’s he?” 

“He’s the guy that made Emilia cry in year 11 for forgetting to bring her homework,” Rosa explained, earning a shove from Emilia. 

“I’m pretty sure he made you cry too, you bitch.” 

“Whatever. He makes half the school cry.” 

“Why? How can someone be that bad?” Kim pressed, eyebrows drawing together in worry. 

“He’s just a Grade-A cunt, what can I say?” Emilia shrugged. 

“True. And his A Level class is like… infamously hard. It’s got a crazy dropout rate for the first term. I hope you know your stuff, Kim,” Rosa said and gave her a somewhat pitiful, but encouraging, smile. 

Kim pressed her lips together. She hoped so too.


	2. Alarm Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAH WAH WAH I'm so hyped for this story now. N.B. most of the great lines of dialogue in Mr Fiske's snappy rumour-debunking segment (and a couple before) have been plagiarised/taken verbatim (with permission) from debronze, because I simply wouldn't have been able to do it better. Check out their KimFist fic on AO3/ff.net if you haven't. But ofc you have.

As her head hit the pillow that night, Kim was sure that sleep would come easy. It had been a long day of standing in airport custom queues, tearful goodbyes with family, lengthy taxi journeys, and of course the mental and physical toll taken from adapting to the confines of the castle-like walls that would be her home for the next year. 

But the exhaustions of the day clearly meant little to the sleep-regulating centres of her brain, as Kim spent the entirety of the night turning in her bed, staring up into the darkness, and begging for sleep to deliver respite from the incomprehensible visions and sensations that were haunting her semi-lucid state. The longer she lay awake, the more restless she became, further feeding the cocktail of anxiety and dread in her stomach that she could only attempt to attribute to ‘homesickness’. 

Insomnia had never been something Kim had ever battled with before, and it was a frustratingly inconvenient time for that battle to begin. 

And yet just as Kim was about to give up all hope of a single minute of sleep; just as the sky began to turn and the birds began their dawn chorus – Kim finally slipped into an overdue and thankless slumber. 

\--- 

Kim awoke suddenly, visions of blazing blue fire still burning her retina. She blinked. Rosa’s phone alarm was blaring behind the partition, and Kim heard a groan and a rustling of sheets before the tune was silenced. 

To put it plainly, Kim felt dreadful. Although she must have salvaged at least one or two hours of genuine rest by the end of the night, it barely felt as though two minutes had passed since she had been staring up at the ceiling. She simply had no idea how she was expected to get through an entire day of staying conscious, let alone her first day of lessons at the notoriously demanding school. But get through it she must, because that was Kim, and that was what she does. 

A shower made little difference to energy levels, but it still felt good to wash herself clean before starting the day. Putting on her uniform was the next task on the list, and one she made quick work of, staring at her newly-clothed reflection in the mirror as it stared back at her with equal dissociation. Evidence of her poor night’s sleep stood plainly on her face in the form of dark shadows under green eyes. Kim watched her reflection as it brought up a hand to brush through long red hair. 

“Oh yeah, you’re probably gonna want to tie that up,” Rosa said, watching Kim in the reflection of her own mirror. “Especially for your first class.” 

Of course. How could she forget – her first class that day was history, taught by none other than the greatly-feared Mr Fiske. She tied her hair into a high ponytail, deciding the look suited her new uniform. 

Sure enough, Rosa couldn’t suppress a laugh as Kim finally admitted to not knowing how one might go about tying a tie. But it was a light-hearted laugh, and Kim giggled along with her as Rosa swiftly looped and knotted until the finishing touch was complete. 

\--- 

Breakfast was a welcome sight for Kim as she stepped into the lunch hall, seeing the cafeteria counters lined with various fruits, cereals and spreads. She fixed herself two slices of toast and sat with Rosa and a few others from their year. 

“How did you sleep?” Emilia asked over her cereal. 

“Pretty terribly actually. Can you tell?” 

“No, not at all,” Emilia promised with a smile. “By the way, this is Connor. He’s in a couple of your classes, so he can help show you the ropes.” 

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said, and reached a hand across the table with which to shake hers. She returned the favour. 

“Kim, do you drink tea?” Rosa asked. 

“Oh yeah. God knows I need the caffeine today,” she laughed. 

Rosa filled Kim’s mug with already-brewed tea, and slid a tray of milk and condiments over to where she sat. “Help yourself.” 

The three friends watched in abject horror as Kim now lifted the mug to her lips. Sensing their attention, she looked up. 

“What?” she asked, pausing before the rim of the mug met her mouth. 

“Kim hold on a moment… Are you literally about to drink that tea black?” 

“Umm… yeah?” 

Rosa snorted. “Wow. You really are American.” 

\--- 

After breakfast, the four went back to their dorm building to collect their bags for the start of lessons. Emilia and Rosa explained that they had Textiles first thing, which was over in the lowers, but promised that Connor would take good care of her and they would catch up with her at lunch. 

Connor was in Kim’s same history class, which was some small relief to Kim, who was grateful she wouldn’t be completely alone in the experience. Walking through the doors that lead to the main corridor, Kim was just about to ask Connor if he had any tips on how to handle Mr Fiske when she suddenly realised how light her backpack felt on her shoulders. 

“Oh… crap,” Kim said, stopping suddenly. “I think I left my history textbook in my dorm. I better go grab it.” 

“Do, but be quick, okay? I’ll save you a seat!” 

“See you in class!” Kim yelled as she pushed back through the double doors and jogged towards the boarding houses. Showing up to class without her history textbook was NOT a move that Kim intended to risk making on her first lesson with the infamous hardass of the school, and she was relieved to have realised her mistake while she still had time. 

She quickly retrieved her keys from her bag and unlocked the door of her room, rushing in and immediately locating her history textbook front-and-centre on her dressing table – left out especially so that she wouldn’t forget it, or so she thought. She grabbed the book – concerningly heavy, she noted, feeling more like a leather-bound book of spells or ancient scripts than the textbooks that she was accustomed to back at Middleton – and flew back out the door. 

Kim was relieved that by the time she found herself back in the same spot that she left Connor, the morning bell still hadn’t rung, meaning she was still in good time – although the students still loitering the corridors were slowly beginning to file into the classrooms. She picked up the pace as she walked to the end of the corridor that Rosa had said the humanities classrooms were based. 

Arriving by the humanities classrooms, Kim took out her timetable and checked the location of her first period class.

HISTORY (09:00 – 10:40) --- MFI --- GLY

‘MFI’ surely referred to the teacher, Mr Fiske, but what room was ‘GLY’?

Kim hurriedly passed all the classrooms in that end of the corridor, checking the signs on each classroom door as she went – Room 3, Room 4, Room 5… Where the hell was GLY?! 

The corridors were more or less empty now, with first period apparently ready to begin at any minute, although the morning bell had still yet to sound. Kim frantically rushed over to one of the stragglers as he was about to open the door to his class. 

“Hey, excuse me, please could you tell me where this room is?!” Kim thrust the timetable in the boy’s face, pointing to the cryptic abbreviation of ‘GLY’. 

The boy blinked sleepily at the timetable, and then frowned. “Oh. That must be the gallery. That’s at the back of the Great Hall.” 

_Shit,_ Kim thought. Of all the schools her parents could have enrolled her in, why did she have to be enrolled in the one with the longest school corridor in the country? 

She breathlessly thanked the boy for his help and rushed down the corridor, not really caring whether or not running was strictly allowed – all Kim was concerned about in this moment was making it to class in time and not being made to cry in front of all her new peers. She hadn’t even made it to the front of the Great Hall when the morning bell echoed through the empty corridors, and she swore under her breath. Officially late. 

Sprinting now down the side of the Great Hall, she rounded the corner and pushed through the double swing-doors that she presumed would lead to the gallery, one of the few spots missed in Rosa’s whirlwind tour on account of her bread and butter pudding. Taking three steps at a time up the remaining flight of stairs, she hoped the boy she had spoken to was correct in his assumptions. 

Sure enough, at the top of the stairs, Kim found herself face-to-face with a solid oak door, adorned with a single silver placard that read “GALLERY”. 

Kim inhaled deeply, and opened the door. 

The first thing she noticed was the man with black hair and blue eyes – it was the teacher from the day before. He was half-sitting, half-leaning on the front of his desk, holding his arm out before him, carefully studying the watch on his wrist. 

Kim swallowed and allowed herself a quick glance over the rest of the class, who were sitting in ominous silence. She caught eyes with Connor, whose best poker face was only betrayed by the unmistakable look of alarm in his eyes. 

She looked back up at the man. He stared at his wristwatch for another few seconds, which passed like slow eternities for Kim – before his blue eyes suddenly flickered up to hers, instantly narrowing as they found their target. 

Kim inadvertently took a half-step back, suddenly realising she hadn’t apologised yet. “S-sorry I’m late, sir.” 

Her apology was met with silence; Mr Fiske simply taking in a deep breath, which he proceeded to exhale through his nose as he slowly surveyed the girl up and down. And then he spoke. 

“ _The American_ ,” he snarled. 

Kim hovered where she was, unsure of how to react – was that a question? He spoke the two words like they were laced in poison. Before she had a chance to say something, he continued. 

“Well? Are you late because you had to swim the Atlantic? Was there an unexpected malfunction in daddy’s private jet?” 

Kim’s jaw dropped open, stunned. She struggled to find a single word to say. 

“And? What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I’m… I’m sorry, Mr Fiske, I couldn’t find the room.” 

His lip curled as he studied her face meticulously. “Clearly,” he said finally. “You’ll sit at the desk at the front of the classroom. Where I can keep my eye on you.” 

Kim ducked her head and made her way to the empty desk – presumably the one reserved for troublemakers, as it appeared to be a whole foot closer to Mr Fiske’s desk than the others in the front row. She sat down, fully aware her cheeks were likely burning as bright as her hair, and tried her best to be inconspicuous. 

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Mr Fiske straightened himself up, held his hands behind his back, and began walking slowly down the centre of the classroom. The only noise that could be heard were the sound of his footsteps. Like a slow, laboured heartbeat. 

“Adams,” she heard him say. “Good to see you here. Sober.” 

This was rewarded with a chorus of quiet chuckles from around the room. Although she didn’t get the reference, Kim instantly relaxed by several degrees knowing the attention had finally moved on from her. 

“Kennedy – an entire summer at home and you’ve still not located an iron, I see.” Another round of chuckles. 

Apparently surveying the rest of the class, Mr Fiske took his position at the front of the room, giving his students one final glance over before he began – not ignoring Kim, of course, sitting in prized position at the very front. 

“Right,” he barked. “By either talent or dumb luck, or some obscure combination of the two, the sixteen of you seem to have made it into my class this year. I expect that number to decline over the first few weeks as many of you come to accept that you are _out of your depth_. Those of you that stay, I will expect nothing but your full dedication to this class. That means perfect attendance, unwavering concentration, and under any circumstances, _no tardiness_ ,” he growled, allowing his glare to settle on Kim. She sank several inches into her chair. 

“If you fall behind, you will be left there. There is a reason this class is the most prestigious class at Claverton. This class is not for slackers.” 

There was a deathly silence in the room. Kim wouldn’t have been surprised to hear someone break down in tears there and then. Remembering what Rosa and Emilia had said to her the evening before, they seemed to have been right on the ball. To say the least, the man’s reputation certainly preceded him. 

“Very well. Now that the motivational speech is over and done with, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Kim glanced up nervously, not sure where this could possibly be leading. He had a glint in his eye that Kim was certain she didn’t like the look of. 

“I know you’ve all heard the rumours. This is the first and last class that I will allow any ridiculous questions that do not pertain to any subject of history.” He grinned then – a dark, threatening thing. “Well?” 

Utterly confused, Kim looked around the classroom as students’ hands shot up into the air. Mr Fiske looked across the room before pointing at one. “You.” 

“Is it true you have a royal title?” 

“You lot love asking that one. Next?” 

“Have you really been expelled from six different schools?” 

“No. Four,” he said, and cackled. 

“Is it true you made a year 7 cry last year?” 

“I simply told her that Santa Claus doesn’t exist. That’s hardly my fault.” 

“Did you really kill a guy in Cambodia?” 

“My lawyers have advised me not to answer that one.” The smirk on his lips suggests he’s only joking, but Kim wasn’t entirely convinced. 

“Is it true you have a pet monkey?” 

“This entire room is full of pet monkeys.” Even Kim couldn’t help but giggle at that one, bringing her hand up to her mouth in a failed attempt to disguise her amusement. 

She had a chance to properly observe the man, now, engaging in light-hearted banter with the rest of the class. He was visibly younger than the other teachers, although he certainly didn’t act it – his old-fashioned way of speaking and dressing suggesting he might have stepped straight out of a novel form the 1800s. He had floppy, almost unruly black hair, with neat sideburns and a clean-shaven face. His eyebrows were dark and menacing, but his blue eyes glinted with a stark purity that almost seemed to contradict the rest of his face. Seeing him laugh with his students, who clearly enjoyed his humour, Kim thought that maybe she had gotten off on the wrong foot with the man. 

Scary – yes; strict – undoubtedly. But a ‘cunt’? No. Maybe just… misunderstood. 

The rest of the double period progressed relatively smoothly, a few sharp remarks made here and there by Mr Fiske in response to a student not paying quite full attention, but nothing too alarming. Most, if not all, of the class seemed to greatly respect him, and it seemed to Kim that as long as you stayed on his good side, you might be alright. _He_ might be alright. 

The end-of-lesson bell sounded, making Kim jump in her seat. After one final snappy comment, Mr Fiske dismissed the class, and the students began packing up their things and leaving the room. 

As Kim began to gather her belongings, she heard a deep voice speak her name. 

“Kimberly.” 

She looked up at Mr Fiske. He was leaning against his desk, his arms folded before him, a blank but stern expression on his face. “Not so fast. You stay behind a moment.” 

Kim watched nervously as her classmates filed out of the room, giving an assuring smile at Connor as he looked back at Kim quizzically on his way out. She knew there was no real reason to feel nervous, not after the display of his character – this man's bark was clearly worse than his bite. 

When the last student had left the classroom, letting the door close softly behind them, Mr Fiske turned to face Kim. 

“Kimberly,” he began. 

“Actually, it’s Kim,” she interjected softly with one of her most polite smiles. 

Mr Fiske paused, and then started again. “Kimberly, I am aware that you are new to this school, and indeed, to this country. I can just about excuse tardiness on your very first day. However, if you do not take this school or your education seriously enough to show up on time in the future, I advise you that you should make the decision to quit this class before I drop you from it myself.” 

Kim opened her mouth to protest – surely there’d been some kind of misunderstanding. “Oh, I actually –" she began. 

She was met by a vicious snarl, the man’s eyes glaring with that same intensity as she had seen the previous evening. “ _Do not_ presume to answer back. This is your last warning. Now collect your things, and remove yourself from my classroom.” 

Kim didn’t miss a beat then, quickly putting her pencil case and her history textbook back into her backpack and turning to leave without giving Mr Fiske so much as a second glance. Blood pounded in her ears, shame and anger welling up in her eyes as she pulled open the door and flew down the stairs. 

Yeah, it was clear now. He definitely was a cunt.


	3. Inescapable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm not a massive fan of how I wrote this chapter, but whatever. Sorry it's literally the SLOWEST story ever at the moment lmao, I promise the pace will start to pick up soon and things will actually start happening. I just needed to... set the scene.

Kim didn’t know if she was more furious with him, or furious with herself. 

Part of her knew that the man had no right to respond like that. It was an honest mistake – she had been so tired after a night of restlessness, and her tired and distracted state was the only reason she had made such an oversight with leaving her textbook in the first place. In fact, her very decision to go back to her dorm to retrieve the textbook was in itself an attempt to _avoid_ his wrath; it just happened to be the case that the room wasn’t where she had expected it to be, causing her efforts to backfire in spectacular fashion. She shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt – she had been warned, and she should have seen it coming. 

And yet, what hurt the most was how Kim couldn’t help but feel disappointed in _herself_ for making a bad impression on her very first day. If the class was as difficult as he’d implied, how much harder was it going to be with a teacher who would likely take every opportunity to make her life hell? Even if she managed to keep up with the pace of the class and somehow meet every one of Mr Fiske’s unrealistic expectations, she knew the man would do everything within his position to make her struggle, giving her more hoops to jump through simply for her to ‘earn’ her place in his class and not suffer the humiliation of being dropped as he had threatened. 

Voluntarily switching class was an option, Kim recognised. There was a lower-set history class which she could always ask to be transferred to. Sure, there would still be some humiliation associated with making a decision like that, but it was a possibility. The other option was to change subjects altogether; distance herself as far away as she could from the man. But deep down, Kim knew that it wasn’t within her to admit defeat, particularly in the face of a challenge like Mr Fiske. She would just have to keep her head down in that class: work hard, meet his challenge head-on, and get through unscathed. She could succeed in spite of him – she would succeed _to_ spite him. 

With this newfound resolve, Kim blinked away her angry tears before they could get the better of her. She took a deep breath and stared forward confidently. Besides, if any of this lingering anger and frustration persisted to the end of the day, at least she would have a means to express them – 5:30pm would see the first karate session of the term.

The rest of the morning, to Kim’s relief, passed without a hitch. Her other subject teachers seemed pretty friendly, and indeed, pretty normal – although she supposed that when compared with Mr Fiske, it would make anyone look like a saint. Positives notwithstanding, Kim found she couldn’t quite shake the abstract sensation of disappointment and dread in her stomach. Perhaps using karate as an outlet really _was_ her last hope. 

\--- 

Lunchtime found Kim back in the lunch hall, and she immediately spotted Rosa and Emilia standing in the queue for the cafeteria. Straight away Rosa caught Kim’s eye and hollered at her to join. 

“Hey, you survived! I’m one proud roomie – the Rosa-branded tour must have been a real game-changer,” she said with a smile. Kim didn’t have the heart to admit that it really hadn’t. “How’s your first morning been?” 

“Err, it was…” 

Kim had spent the whole morning trying to put thoughts of tall, dark-haired Englishmen out of her head, knowing that if she allowed herself to dwell she would only feel more downtrodden. Even now that she was standing with Rosa and Emilia, she really didn’t want to think about it. There was certainly some guilt there; a sense of shame that she had been singled out as the ‘bad student’. That wasn’t _her_. Back at Middleton, it was always Ron getting into trouble with teachers, and Kim was there to save the day with charm and flair. Ruminating on the events of that morning’s history lesson would only serve to reinforce the idea, in both herself and her peers, that this was the type of person Kim was. Lazy. Careless. A troublemaker. That’s not who she was, and that’s not how she wanted to be seen. 

“Let me guess,” Emilia said at Kim’s hesitation. “Not the world’s biggest fan of Mr Fiske?” 

Kim chuckled. “I mean, you did warn me. But hey, it’s not such a big deal.” 

Just as the three friends sat down at the lunch table and Kim thought she’d managed to dodge and resurrection of Monday morning history, Connor showed up, an anticipatory grin on his face. 

“Kim! Sorry I didn’t get to see you earlier. Old Mr Fiske seemed to be in pretty good spirits today, didn’t he? Maybe this year won’t be too bad after all.” 

Kim blinked at him in horror. That was Mr Fiske on a good day? She hated everything that implied. 

Connor continued. “Anyway, what did he want with you at the end of the lesson?” 

“Ah yeah, that was just…” _I can’t catch a break_ , she thought to herself. 

But before she had a chance to explain, Emilia perked up in her chair. “Oh. Speak of the devil…” 

Kim looked up, immediately clocking the ‘devil’ in question. 

There Mr Fiske was, making his way from the opposite end of the hall towards the teachers’ table. Kim wasn’t sure if she had ever seen someone walk ‘condescendingly’ before, but the word seemed to describe Mr Fiske’s gait to a T; he held his back perfectly straight when he walked, his shoulders broad and square, his chin tilting just a little as he looked down at the students sitting at their tables with a cold and distant arrogance. 

“Doesn’t he have this… _certain presence_ about him that just screams ‘asshole’?” Emilia said, practically reading Kim’s mind. “God, I hate that man,” Emilia added, jabbing the fork repeatedly into her sausages and mash like she wished she was jabbing something else. 

“Yeah. It’s like he’s got this force-field of evil around him that makes every student within a 5m radius want to run home crying,” Rosa said. 

“Isn’t it though?! God. What a prick,” Emilia said. “… I just wish he wasn’t so _fucking sexy_.” 

Kim almost choked on her string beans. “Excuse me?!” 

Rosa looked over at Kim with a stupid grin then, and Connor ran his hands down his face and moaned. 

“Ugh, not this shit again. You girls are mad.” 

“It’s not just us,” Rosa insisted with a smirk. “If you ask any girl here who the hottest teacher at school is, I guarantee 90% of them would say Mr Fiske. Unless you ask the other 10%, who would probably say Miss Stuart, or if you asked someone like me, who would probably say both.” 

“Wait, wait, back up a second,” Kim said, holding her hands up defensively. “You guys fancy Mr Fiske?!” 

“Well, I don’t know about _fancying_ him,” Emilia said. “Just that I think he’s like… kinda hot.” 

Kim stared at Emilia with her mouth hanging open. 

Truth be told, the first time she’d laid eyes on the man, she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t immediately struck by his comparatively youthful appearance, and would _maybe_ go as far as to say his face had _some_ handsome qualities about it, though if asked, she would’ve denied it. But those thoughts had instantly dissipated the moment he had opened his arrogant mouth to her, and were safely buried 6 feet below the dirt by the time she left his classroom that same morning. To hear Emilia and Rosa talk about him in any other way than with the most dedicated repulsion was almost… offensive. 

“What are you lot up to? Causing trouble, no doubt.” 

Just the sound of his deep growling voice behind her set Kim’s stomach into a lump of steel. She froze, unable to breathe. 

Slowly, she turned around, and looked up to see Mr Fiske’s face staring down at her. Somehow he’d managed to sneak up behind the table without her realising. He seemed to observe Kim with that same level of outward distaste, his lip top slightly curled – but there was unmistakably that same teasing glint in his eye that she had noticed in class. 

God how she hated it. 

Kim turned herself back away from him them, insistent that she would not give the man another moment of her time, but her efforts seemed to be in vain when the man started stalking around the side of table, forcing himself back into Kim’s sight. 

“We were just singing your praises, sir,” Rosa said. “We heard your most recent A Level class received glowing exam results over the summer.” 

“Whilst your observations are correct, Miss Miller, I think that’s an unlikely excuse. Whatever you four were talking about, it looked like poor Kimberly here was about to choke on her sausage.” 

Kim was mortified. Whilst the rest of the table snorted with raucous laughter, Kim had half a mind to crawl under the table and stay there for the rest of the year, away from his intrusive gaze which was almost certainly enjoying the colour now staining her cheeks. She really _couldn’t_ catch a break. 

“I hope you didn’t go too hard on Kim for being late this morning, sir?” Connor said with a playful grin. 

Mr Fiske’s face immediately dropped. 

“Careful, Mr Thomas.” He said bluntly. The sudden and unprecedented tone of warning in his voice made Kim’s heart sink. She didn’t dare look up from her tray. “I’ll remind you that whilst I welcome a measured level of banter, it is not your place to dictate how I induct my new students. Particularly those who think it acceptable to show up late to my very first lesson.” 

Connor seemed to bite his tongue then. 

“That will be all,” Mr Fiske snarled. 

Connor looked down as the man stalked away then, leaving the table sitting in silence. 

“Woah…” Rosa muttered after a few moments. “What the hell was that about?” 

“That went from 0 to 100 really quick,” Emilia whispered. 

Connor glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the table. “Seriously, Kim, what the hell did you say to him this morning?!” 

Kim shook her head. “I literally didn’t say a thing! I swear. He just told me to stay behind… And then he tore into me without giving me a single chance to explain myself. He nearly bit my head off.” 

“I guess he just really doesn’t like you. I don’t know, maybe he hates Americans?” Emilia offered with a shrug. “Sorry, Kim.” 

\--- 

Kim’s final lesson of the day was economics. If she wasn’t already exhausted from the challenges of the day, she certainly was by the time the 4 o’clock bell rang. 

Despite having taken an economics class in her last term at Middleton, the syllabus was crammed full of concepts and theories she had never heard of before, and whilst Mrs Iain began a head-first deep-dive into the first topic of the academic year, Kim found herself glancing around her classmates in the hope that there was at least someone who looked as lost as her. But to Kim’s dismay, everyone seemed to be paying complete attention, noting down everything Mrs Iain said so that the only noises above the drone of the teacher’s voice were the scratchings of pen against paper. Great – it looked like this would be another class Kim would have to work twice as hard at just to keep her head above the water. 

Kim headed back to the dorm, noticing that Rosa hadn’t returned from her lessons yet. She could do with a mindless chat just to take her mind off things, but seeing as she wasn’t around, maybe some alone time would do her good. She grabbed her sports kit and a book, and made her way out to the lower grounds to get some fresh air and space. 

Walking down towards the rolling fields of the lowers, Kim pulled out her phone and read through the messages sent from her family, already keen to find out how her first day at boarding school had gone. She typed out a reply. 

“Day went well thanks. Everyone really friendly.” 

Kim hit send, not even wanting to address the irony, as that would mean inviting Mr Fiske back willingly into the recesses of her mind – not something that was on her agenda for the rest of her day; nor the rest of her life, truth be told. 

She went to find a quiet spot on a bench, tucked away near the sports hall, on which to sit and read for the remainder of the hour before training was due to start. Although grateful for the solitude and change of pace, she couldn’t help but check the time every few minutes, unable to wait for 5:30 to come around. 

It didn’t even matter what the class was like, she decided, or the style or the intensity or the people – all she cared about was being back on the mat, with the opportunity to move around, break into a sweat, and release her pent-up frustrations. Her body ached for it. 

The Claverton Academy website had said that the karate club was held in the training hall in the main sports centre. Afraid to repeat the same mistakes as she had that morning, she made sure to enter into the building a good 20 minutes ahead of time to locate the hall and get changed. 

She quickly changed into leggings and a loose t-shirt – a soft, purple shirt, with the Middleton ‘M’ branded on the front. She smiled to herself at that, feeling some comfort from having a reminder of the school that had given her so much. 

On her way out of the bathroom, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She felt confident seeing herself then – the strong, independent, 18-year old woman she had grown into. Kim decided that she wasn’t going to let any mistakes, bad luck, or ill-informed opinions define her, because she alone knew her worth, and she’d be damned if anyone tried to take that away from her. 

10 minutes ahead of time, Kim opened the door of the training hall, bowing as she stepped inside. She looked up to find three others already present – two younger boys, one taking a swig from his water bottle as they stood at the side of the hall, and one girl standing confidently in the middle of the mats, who smiled at Kim. 

Kim took the girl’s smile as an invitation to approach. As she did, the girl turned to face her fully, looking Kim slightly up and down as she did. 

“Hey, my name’s Athena. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Kim,” Kim replied. She paused. “Are you the instructor?” 

Athena laughed then, causing Kim to blush slightly, feeling silly. “No, no, I’m not the instructor. The sensei will be here soon – he’s always exactly on time.” 

Five or six other students showed up over the next few minutes, quickly filling the hall with quiet, gentle chatter as people stood amongst themselves and began stretching. Kim immediately relaxed into the comfortable atmosphere, finding a spot towards the side of the hall where she could stretch out her arms, before moving on to her legs. She leant down to stretch out a calf, sighing softly as she felt the tension already start to fade away. 

There was a sound of a door being opened, and footsteps as someone came into the hall. The instructor. 

Kim rose slowly to meet them. 

But as she stood upright, and her gaze focused on the front of the hall, her blood ran cold. 

It was Mr Fiske.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's Athena as in the Athena character from the live action reboot. No spoilers, but obviously she's not the SAME Athena as in the movie. I just like... borrowed her.


	4. A Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long delay. I started writing this chapter over a month ago, but for various reasons, it took a while to finish. 
> 
> Half-way through writing this, I realised how little I know about kung fu sparring terms??? So I hope you don't mind that I decided to change it to a karate club, which is a lot more familiar to me. (And also explains why he wears a gi rather than kung fu uniform.) I used a few Japanese words for authenticity, but most of these have been translated - just words like hajime (begin), yamai (stop), aka (red), ao (blue) and a couple scoring words. Because we just KNOW that Monty speaks fluent Japanese. 
> 
> Anyway, we'll finally reach the next day in the next chapter LOL. I hope y'all enjoy.

The man bowed as he entered the dojo, and walked up to take his place at the front. 

His blue eyes surveyed the room, scanning over the pupils in attendance. 

As his gaze finally made its way to Kim, it stilled. She felt her heart beat faster by the second as he continued to study her, his gaze impenetrable, before a dark smile spread slowly across his lips. 

“Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t Miss Possible. Didn’t quite get your fill of me today, hm?” 

Kim had no idea how to respond, just wishing the floor would swallow her to save her from enduring another second of his psychological torture. 

He began by leading the stretches. Kim made sure to keep her eyes fixed on his lower legs, not daring to look up at his face for fear of meeting his eyes again. She noted the black gi he chose to wear – in fitting contrast to the white gis adorned by the students. 

She figured it was probably her best strategy to keep her head down and her mouth shut until he inevitably tired of picking on her and moved onto someone else. Like dealing with any bully, as tempting as it may seem to kick up a fuss, she would be playing straight into his hands by giving him a reaction. It would be better to not respond. 

She tried to focus on the stretches, but with every passing minute it was harder to ignore the flurry of annoyance and panic of Kim’s mind – did this guy have to weasel his way into _every_ aspect of her life? And why the hell did he seem to be enjoying it so much? 

After warming up, Mr Fiske announced to the class that they would begin by pairing up and gently sparring. Frantically, Kim’s eyes darted around the hall as she attempted to count the number of people in the class, and felt a cold chill run down her spine as she heard Mr Fiske’s voice by her side. 

“Don’t worry Kimberly – it’s an even number today, so you don’t have to worry about being paired up with me,” he chuckled. _He would_ , she thought. She should’ve known there was no way of slipping anything past the man, however subtle she thought she was being. 

“Now, class,” he raised his voice to announce to the others in the hall, “I want you all to go easy on Miss Possible here. I’ve taken a look at her file – she’s a _cheerleader_. How _delightful_.” 

Kim couldn’t help the glare that came over her face as she stared up at him.

“I hate to break it to you, my dear,” he continued as he turned back to face her, “but you might find the traditional martial arts to be a little more… demanding to what you’re used to.” 

His challenge instilled her with a brash confidence – _so much for staying low_. “Actually, sir, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m already trained in several styles of martial arts. But I appreciate the introduction.” 

Mr Fiske’s dumb smile dropped quickly from his face, and Kim couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. 

“And which styles might they be?” 

_Calling my bluff, huh?_ “I’ve practiced several years in Shotokan and Wado-ryu karate, as well as MMA, and Shaolin, Wing Chun, and some Animal Forms of kung fu. But I dabble in others.” 

“Animal Forms?” he demanded. 

“Mantis and Tiger.” 

His eyes narrowed at the admission, and for a brief moment Kim felt like she had won this round – but then the man grinned. 

“I’m _impressed_ , Kimberly,” he said coolly. “I look forward to seeing what you can do.” 

He slunk away towards the centre of the dojo, leaving Kim bristling. 

Kim paired up with a boy she didn’t recognise. He was quiet, which she was grateful for, as it meant she could really hone down on the task and focus her thoughts. She shook off the day, shook off her surprise at seeing Mr Fiske, and allowed herself to get truly immersed in the back-and-forth, almost meditative flow of gentle sparring. She almost succeeded in ignoring the man who she could sense was close by – she could feel his gaze on her like some kind of unwelcome sixth sense. _Focus, Kim,_ she told herself. 

\--- 

Just over an hour later, Kim felt alive again. She wiped the back of her hand against her forehead to catch a few drops of sweat, her eyes sparkling with the hard-earned rush of endorphins. It felt good to be back in the zone – despite her predicament, she had actually caught herself enjoying the training on several occasions. Even if this was to be her only taste of Claverton Academy karate – for she was surely going to find a different sports club after the brief fling that was today’s session – she would still allow herself to make the most of it. 

At the same time as Kim glanced at the clock, noting there was another 20 minutes left of the training session, Mr Fiske addressed the class, summoning everybody to stand in a wide circle in the centre of the dojo. 

He took his place in the break of the circle, standing tall, with his hands behind his back. A quick glance revealed that his black gi top had loosened slightly – one lapel hung loosely over his chest, exposing a glimpse of tanned skin. Kim aggressively averted her eyes. 

“As I’m sure you are all well aware,” he began, “I am a keen advocate of healthy competition.” 

Kim found herself wondering where this might be going. 

“The surest road to success is through continually striving for self-improvement, and the best way to attain that improvement is through pushing yourself, and your peers. 

“Athena here is our best fighter – always wipes the floor with her competition. To this day, I believe you’re unbeaten in competition-style sparring, are you not, Athena?” 

The class turned to look at Athena. “Yep. Still undefeated, sensei,” she replied with a self-assured smile. 

They turned back to Mr Fiske. 

“You see, for all the _newcomers_ with us today,” – Kim heard the emphasis on the word that was surely meant solely for her – “in this martial arts club, we like to keep our minds sharp and our sights high. The quality of karate taught in this dojo is enough to equip every one of its members with the abilities to compete in a range of martial arts competitions – we’ve enjoyed significant victories in judo, kung fu, and mixed martial arts competitions across the country. I like to think we’ve perfected our very own style of competition sparring that is a fusion of the traditional arts – have we not, Athena?” 

“I think so, sensei,” Athena replied. Kim fought the increasing urge to roll her eyes. 

“Now,” he continued, a particularly sharp, white canine catching a glint of the overhead lights, “what better way to welcome the new student than pitting her skills against our reigning champion. Let’s find out what such an _elusive_ blend of cheerleading and martial arts can do, hm?” 

Kim barely had time to react before a pair of red boxing gloves were suddenly chucked at her head – her reflexes allowed her to catch the gloves before they hit her square in the face. 

“Red for the redhead. How fitting,” he said. 

He turned to his undefeated champion. “Athena, you take blue,” he said, tossing the gloves underarm, and considerably more gently, for Athena to catch. 

He ushered the rest of the class further out, who took their places by kneeling on the floor, leaving a wide ring for Athena and Kim to have their fight. 

Kim stood dumbly as she looked around the hall, a look of bewilderment on her face, still holding the pair of boxing gloves in front of her body. 

“You put those on your hands,” Mr Fiske said in a stage-whisper. A few sniggers erupted around the hall. 

Kim shook herself out of it, and fastened the boxing gloves around her hands. She clenched her fists, feeling the flection of the material around her knuckles. 

“Now. Let’s keep it simple. Punches are worth one point, kicks two. Throws will _not_ be awarded. Maintain your distance and don’t let things get scrappy. First to five points wins.” 

Kim nodded, taking in the barrage of information. Five points? She could manage that. Her years of training back in Colorado had been very much focused on technique and form rather than competition-style sparring; but even so, she did have a few real-life experiences up her sleeve. Just a couple of muggings and one case of public assault she was able to step in and stop before things got too ugly – not much, but enough to prove that she was absolutely able to handle herself. 

Though, it had to be said: competition-style sparring _was_ a little different from street fighting. She would have to keep an eye on her timing, maintain the right distance, and keep her technique clean, as Mr Fiske had already stressed. It wasn’t simply a matter of beating your opponent to the ground or knocking them out. Competition sparring is about _restraint_. And in some ways, that made it even harder. 

Mr Fiske held up his hands a distance apart, signalling Kim and Athena to take their positions on opposite sides of the ring, where he signalled them to bow. Athena kept her eyes fixed on Kim, unblinking, an obvious reluctance to be the first one to break eye contact. Even this was a display of dominance – and Kim was not about to stoop to her level. Kim smiled, and bowed deeply in attempt to show Athena that she was taking the challenge in good nature. Athena did not return the smile. 

“Are you familiar with Japanese terminology, Kimberly?” Mr Fiske asked. 

“I am, actually,” she replied. He smirked. 

“Very well.” 

Mr Fiske held his arm out between the two girls. There was a silence around the dojo. 

“ _Hajime_!” _Begin._

Immediately, Athena leapt into Kim’s space, aggressively swiping her arm towards Kim’s head, evidently keen to score the first point. Kim feinted a kick with a lift of her knee, and watched as the girl darted backwards in response. 

Clearly Athena’s strategy was to rely on her speed to make the first move. She was small – she might indeed be even faster than Kim was. But that was no worry. Kim lowered her front guard by several inches, leaving her torso open for attack and baiting Athena to make the move – and there it was. 

Athena had an obvious tell. Kim noticed it immediately. Every lunge forward was prefaced by a twitch of Athena’s front shoulder – it was subtle to the untrained eye, but enough for Kim to identify on its first display. And now that she had spotted it, Athena wouldn’t be able to get an attack in without Kim being ready.  
There was no need to be rash – having identified her tell, the match was as good as over. She waited for Athena to come in again, positioning her weight slightly onto her back leg as she stilled, poised, timing her counter perfectly. She waited for that twitch of Athena’s shoulder – and when she saw it, Kim brought her front leg up, and in a flash, landed a clean kick to Athena’s open torso. 

“ _Yamai!_ ” Mr Fiske said, and stepped in to stop the fight. 

He faced Athena first, who quickly nodded at Mr Fiske to show she was okay to continue. He then turned around to look at Kim, surveying her up and down before meeting her eyes. She held his gaze, and was surprised to see something soft and unfamiliar in his eyes. Was Mr Fiske… impressed? 

He took his place back at the side of the ring, and held up an arm. “ _Aka. Chudan geri._ Two points.” _Two points to red._ Kim licked her lips to hide a smile that was forming as Mr Fiske re-commenced the match. 

There was an unmistakable look of annoyance on Athena’s face now. Claverton’s reigning champion was reluctant to make the first move – presumably in attempt to change her strategy to prevent Kim from getting the better of her again. But Kim didn’t mind. 

Dancing around the mats in a mirrored choreography, Kim threw in a few feints, waiting for Athena’s stance to square-up – and her patience was quickly rewarded. Kim seized the opportunity, stepping in and delivering another roundhouse kick, making light contact with the back of her foot before snapping her leg back and placing her foot on the floor. 

Mr Fiske paused the fight, briskly checked that Athena was okay to continue, and awarded another two points to Kim. 

4-0. One more point away from victory. Athena’s look of annoyance had quickly turned into a rage – rage at the thought of a public humiliation by a newcomer. 

“Let’s keep it friendly, now,” Mr Fiske said, his tone of voice suggesting the total opposite. Clearly, ‘keeping things friendly’ had been far from his intentions when stirring up his very own grudge match. 

Both girls knew that Athena would stop at nothing to take away Kim’s advantage. Kim kept her distance, not wishing to be caught out for foul play at such a delicate moment in the match. She circled Athena as she searched for another opening. 

Suddenly, Athena tore towards Kim, barrelling her shoulder into Kim’s hip and flipping her onto her back. The impact of the ground knocked the breath out of Kim’s lungs, and before she could even blink, Athena delivered a clean strike to Kim’s jaw. 

“ _Yamai!_ ” 

Kim picked herself up, catching a transient glimpse of satisfaction on Athena’s face as the girl settled back into fighting stance. 

Throws weren’t allowed – Mr Fiske had explicitly said so when explaining the rules. Surely he’d never allow that to score. 

“Athena – a perfectly executed throw, and an acceptable finishing strike. _Ao, ippon._ Three points to blue.” 

“H- hold up. I thought you said –“ Kim began. 

“Now, now, Kimberly; nobody likes a sore loser,” Mr Fiske replied. He flashed an irritating smirk as he met Kim’s eyes. He was baiting her – trying to get a rise, and force her to lose her cool. She wouldn’t bite. 

He re-commenced the match: it was now 4-3, meaning the next point could very well be the last, regardless of the winner. The two circled each other, eyes locked and unblinking, daring the other to make the first move. 

Athena lunged for Kim, and she deflected quickly. Kim took a step back to maintain her distance, but as she did so, Athena grabbed a fistful of Kim’s shirt, pulling her chest towards her and wrestling with her grip, all the while trying to swipe Kim’s front leg to knock her back to the floor. Kim struggled; holding to this extent was clearly another foul, and one that might see Kim getting the penalty if she didn’t put an end to it quickly. 

Kim brought her knee up between her, fighting Athena off in attempt to break her grip on her shirt. It barely worked. She threw out a controlled punch to Athena’s face to quickly end the fight – except, it would have been controlled, if Athena was not still holding tightly onto Kim’s shirt. 

Kim’s fist hit Athena square in the nose, and Claverton’s disgraced champion stumbled back, hands already cradling her bleeding nose. 

Kim did feel a twinge of guilt then, watching Athena cowering behind her hands as she tried to contain the bleeding – but this guilt quickly vanished when Mr Fiske stepped back into Kim’s line of sight. 

“5-0 to Miss Kimberly Ann Possible,” he sang out to the rest of the hall. “What an _upset_ ,” he added – his grin suggesting anything but. 

Kim’s chest heaved as she fought to regain her breath, looking around the dojo as the other pupils sat and stared in bewilderment. 

“Satisfactory training today, everybody,” Mr Fiske said. “Class dismissed.” 

Before Kim could move, he span back around to face her. 

“Except you.” 

She wasn’t even surprised – Mr Fiske was keeping her behind for the second time that day, and probably for another slating. But this time, Kim was prepared for it. There was nothing the man could say that would catch her by surprise. 

Kim pulled off her gloves, observing the rest of the students as they hurried to correct their belongings and leave the hall. She also noticed that Mr Fiske didn’t give Athena so much as a glance as she shoved through the swing doors in a flurry – leaving Mr Fiske and Kim alone once again. 

“Playing dirty, Kimberly,” he spoke into the silence of the dojo. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“I’d hardly call that playing dirty.” 

Mr Fiske grinned then, revealing sharp white canines. Evidently, he disagreed. 

“That was quite the performance – seeing you assess the situation and adapt accordingly, like it was a mere game of strategy. I suppose I _may_ have been too quick in passing judgement on your… cheerleading… background.” 

Kim shrugged her shoulders. “It is about strategy, I guess. Athena has the strength and speed, that’s for sure, but she’s easy to read. So… it was just a matter of responding to that.” 

He observed her for a few moments with an indecipherable expression. She found herself fighting the urge to squirm under his gaze. 

“This may _formally_ be a karate dojo,” he continued, “but there is one particular style of martial art that lies close to my heart.” 

“Let me guess. One of the Animal Forms of kung fu?” 

“Oh?” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. 

Kim couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to her face. “I noticed you took a particular interest in Animal Forms in our conversation earlier. I figured it might have been for a reason.” 

“Tai Shing Pek Kwar,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“Monkey Kung Fu. Grossly underrated in the realm of martial arts, but of the utmost elegance and precision of technique. A deceptive style at its heart. You might just be a perfect fit.” 

“Deceptive, like… allowing a foul to be awarded three points?” 

“ _Precisely,_ ” he growled, his eyes widening. “You’re a quick learner.” 

Kim opened her mouth to reply, but strangely couldn’t find the words, her eyes now locked into the hidden depths of blue irises. 

He filled the silence for her. 

“It’s early days, Kimberly – but you might one day prove to be my greatest student yet.” 

He smiled again – not a smirk, but that same look from before – one of softness, and something untranslatable. 

“Have a good night,” he said finally. 

Mr Fiske turned, and began walking towards the doors. 

Kim wanted to tell him that she didn’t care that he was impressed – but she decided not to, and instead watched him walk away, leaving her alone in the training hall.


End file.
